


The Details of Victory

by feefiefofairy



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, The Capitol (Hunger Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25179628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feefiefofairy/pseuds/feefiefofairy
Summary: "And this moment here... this is a moment that you never forget. The moment when the tribute becomes a victor."―Caesar FlickermanShort snippets post-victory of a 12 year old tribute.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	The Details of Victory

**000.**

She scrambles backwards. Her hands explore the ground behind her, searching for a potential weapon. Any weapon. Her fingers dig into the ground. The boy stares down at her. The corners of his lips twitch up into a smile. 

"There can only be one Victor," he says, "And it will be me."

He takes a step forward and she throws the dirt in his face. She lunges and the two collide with the ground. She clutches his head in her hands and slams it down. Again, again, and again. Blood splashes in her face. It seeps between her fingers. 

The canon blasts. The blood soaking her hands turns cold. 

"There can only be one Victor," her childish voice echoes. "And it is me."

Her hands are red.

**001.**

The cold of the metal throne seeps into her skin and her feet dangle high above the ground when she finally sits down. Her dress is wrinkled. Words slip out of her lips and Caesar Flickerman laughs. She watches the recap and stares at the images of the other tributes. Her face is on the screen. Blood is on her hands. The world tilts.

She blinks and the recap is over.

Caesar grabs her hand and tugs her to her feet. The crowd cheers and claps and, all of a sudden, the President is in front of her. He speaks. He smells too sweet and he smiles down at her.

The crown is too big. It slides off to the side after President Snow places it on her head.

She can't breathe.

**002.**

They dress her in gold. It shimmers in the light and the fabric is too soft. She twirls because they want her to. It makes her dizzy. Her prep team giggles and her stomach churns when they paint over her scars and the bags under her eyes. They chat with each other about the games and how surprising it was when she won. One of them touches her shoulder and compliments her. She stiffens and the hand lingers as they titter.

Her stylist draws on her with small brushes that tickles her skin and makes her sparkle. He fusses over her hair and tells her to smile.

She tries.

She is alone. She stands in front of the mirror, but she doesn't look. She can't. It's not her she sees.

**003.**

Her escort pushes her through the pulsating crowd of Capitol citizens. They all crane their necks to get a good look at her. She's warm and the music is too loud. It hurts her ears. She is lead to a table and they give her a drink that fizzes in her mouth. It tastes like flowers. She likes the way it tingles in her throat. She drinks it all. Another appears in her hand. And then another. Someone talks to her, but she can't understand what they are saying. Her head feels heavy and the world looks blurry.

There's a hand on her back.

She sits on the ground with her arms wrapped around herself and stares at nothing.

She doesn't like parties.

**004.**

They send her back to her District a month after winning the games, after her crowning, after they make her outsides perfect again. She wishes they hadn't because now her insides and outsides don't match. She thinks it would be better if they did. Maybe then they would stop looking at her, stop wanting her, stop asking for her.

She feels wrong.

She looks at her hands and wonders why no one else can see the red on them. She tries to wash it away, but it won't come off.

Her insides are too broken to be fixed.

She's tired. She wishes she could sleep.

**005.**

They give her the house in the left corner of the empty neighborhood. The farthest house from the path leading to the center of her District. The house is big and filled with strange things she doesn't know what to do with. It reminds her of the Capitol.

For the first time, in what seems like forever, she is alone.

Then, one day, she sees it. There's a camera. Small and hidden, but there. She checks the rooms carefully and spots one in all of them. Her stomach drops.

They're still watching her.

**006.**

She drifts around the Victor's Village like a ghost. She takes to sleeping on the roof of the empty house besides hers. She stares up at the stars and remembers when she used to whisper her dreams to the night sky. She doesn't dream. Not anymore.

Dreams are for the living and she is dead inside.

**007.**

Sometimes she wishes that she had died in the Arena. If she lays really still and holds her breath, she can pretend that she did. Then that fantasy isn’t enough. She finds herself crouching on the edge of the roof and staring at the ground. 

She sits there for hours. 

**008.**

She is clutching a knife in her hand half asleep when she hears it. Footsteps. Her grip tightens. She tenses and launches herself at the other Tribute. They scream. A doors slams. Why is there a door? She jolts back to reality. 

The doors opens again and she blinks at the invasion of colors. Her Escort, Stylist, and Prep Team flutter around her. The knife is pried from her grip.

She feels naked. 

**009.**

Their smiles are wide and blinding. She doesn’t know what’s happening. They dress her in sparkles and paint a smile on her face. Cameras follow her and then she sees it. There’s a cake on the table. They call it red velvet. All she can think of is blood.

It’s her birthday, but it’s not really hers anymore. 

They’ve taken it from her. It’s theirs now. 

**010.**

Her Victory Tour starts tomorrow. They lead her to the train and she hesitates. She doesn’t want to go. The silver gleams. She is pushed forward. The doors close behind her. There’s nowhere to hide now. She feels like screaming, but stays silent. They hand her cards with a prewritten speech. They control her words now. 

Victory is a trap. A lie.

She never really left the Arena. It just got bigger.


End file.
